Destiny's pineapple cake


Have you ever felt your destiny dribbling down dollops of dread all over you one fine unexpected morning? And you wishing that some wizard of worth and classiness would rescue you from such a hopeless hole of hurdles and gruesome glue?

Everyone knows that destiny bakes this bothersome pineapple cake to badger you into solving a major problem, or to scrape out hurdles that have hardened into rust.  
Also known as being stuck between the devil and the deep sea, this uneasy prison owns me as its very regular visitor, because I hate change. Even the rubble and the rust I’m sitting under calmly, seem better than to make that decision, scrape out that bully or that blizzard hammering at the door!

This talkative prison warns that a massive weasel is breathing down your back, your neck, or worse, your soul! Or eating up the cashewnuts in the kitchen cupboard, and eyeing your Hilfiger watch!

Then it nastily reminds you that that persistent boring bully is trying to run your life for you. Or that twittering of mediocrity posing as expertise is becoming a massive mansion of draculas pounding down upon your nerves!

Still, I would rather watch Dalziel and Pascoe on BBC entertainment to see how those two delightful detectives are solving the ghastly murder while my mess goes on murdering me! I visit that Tortoise Shell cat on her terrace with her two-colours-short to make a decimated rainbow of pineapple yellow, chocolate brown, ice white, and sun-kissed yellow squiggles on her fur. Her exquisite calm scrubs away all the sniggers of stupidity and slime.

And then just one spell of Handel’s Messiah is enough to badger me into such bliss that nothing else makes sense except  the awesome truth that Handel took just 24 days to create this masterpiece of such solemn, soaring majesty!

Magic squirts out of two ducks snoozing in water on their very own water beds! One piece of bread passed on for an early breakfast, and the ducks peer out with one eye to gleam and wash off the missiles of mediocrity slamming around the universe.
What could be the reason to remain in this prison? For this maddening Mayor of Meekness and Indecision, the saving grace could be that while lost between the devil and the deep sea, one finds several hidden nuggets of sense and sensibility.
It is the place where Pavarotti seems to be singing for his supper at your doorstep! And Panis Angelicus weeps for you, and woes you out of your woes. How awesome!

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